My Dad died

Deb,

Please accept my sympathies for your loss. Your description of your dad touched my heart and I can't imagine how difficult that was for all of you. I'm glad he was 'with it' enough to know he had hurt you and apologized. Of course, you know he couldn't help himself by that time.

My dad had a military funeral, as well, and Taps playing was very comforting to me.

May God give you the comfort that only He can provide.

Prayers,

Miss S

Ok, this is like therapy for me, please humor me while I post the eulogy I spoke (not intended to have been read by me, but I felt it was necessary).  Thanks ladies, Love and prayers, Deb 

My Dad was a man of simplicity.  It was like divine intervention that my Dad and Mom met at such an early age and fell in love, because my Mom was also happiest in a simple setting.  They balanced each other out and made each other complete.  My Mom understood my Dad like nobody else ever did.  My Dad cherished my Mom to her very last breath.  When my Mom was sick with Leukemia 13 years ago, my Dad hurt right alongside her.  However, he was at the hospital every single day, oftentimes bringing my Mom a Slurpee, or a treat from Dairy Queen, just to make sure she ate something.

    I remember my Dad and Mom openly sharing their love.  I used to love watching them stand in the kitchen, stealing a kiss or a hug.  They always held hands.  Sometimes they would begin to dance a slow dance even though there was no music.  

Dad was truly committed to his wife, his soul mate.  My Mom also suffered from MS, but my Dad still loved her completely.  He helped her do everything when her disease took over her body.  He never complained. 

 Dad taught me the sacredness of marriage, and I carry that lesson through in my own marriage.  I am grateful for the lessons I learned through their marriage and relationship.   

  Every single person who knew my Dad agreed that when my mom died, a part of my Dad died as well.  He assured me that he would always be married to my Mom, even though she was in a divine place.   

 He had a silly side, even though he didn't really know it.  My mom and I used to tease him about the "Dad-isms."  He always said the same thing each day before he left for work at GM, which is where he worked for over 30 years.  He would come to my mom for a kiss goodbye, and stand in the middle of the room saying, "I got my keys, glasses, wallet, cigarettes, cigarettes, change, I'm set."  As he said each item, his hand would go to the designated spot they were supposed to be.    He would always have a "spot" for everything, and a routine for everything.  Sometimes we would quietly move the dishcloth, or move his ashtray and wait for him to notice.  He laughed that he made us laugh.   

 He also was very concerned about goofy things that nobody else thought to be bothersome, and we'd tease him about those "Dad-isms."  He always said, "Don't fall through the window," if we walked too close to the picture window.   He would yell, "Don't let the cat out," whenever we'd leave the house, even if the cat was on his lap.  He'd be sure to tell us to lock the back door and make sure the porch light was off, even though we have all been doing that for years.  We'd laugh over his compulsive behavior, because even though it was so silly to us it meant the world to him! 

As a family, we learned to work around the "Dad-isms," and succeed in our family dynamic.  I learned to wash my fork the moment I was done using it, or Dad would pace around the house nervously.  We learned that we could NEVER talk at the end of a road trip, because it made my Dad a nervous wreck.  My Dad, being a fiercely private person, never liked to go places, but I can say with pride that he supported us and went-purely out of love for his family. 

These things drove us crazy, but these were the things that made us love our Dad for the person he was.   We questioned Dad at times, because he was such an intensely private human being.  We oftentimes thought our Dad didn't care as much as we wanted him to.  However, the day that Dad died, we received a huge wake-up call.  Each drawer and cabinet and closet that we opened was FILLED to the brim with each and every note and card he has received from us.  Not only that, my brother found a note he scribbled on a scratch paper to my Dad that simply said he stopped by.  I found a scrapbook that my Dad had started on his own doing-filled with momentos of my son Daniel.  I had no idea that my Dad did these things, and it fills both my brother's and my heart with a mixture of sadness and joy.   

He was such a quiet person, and never wanted to "burden" us.  He didn't want us to arrange meals for him because he didn't want to take money away from us.  He didn't want to ask about holidays because he thought he'd be in the way.  In his own way, this is how he loved us so deeply.  He felt that we had our own lives, and wanted us to flourish in them, not dote upon him. 

Dad was raised in an extremely devout Catholic home.  He was an orphan, and taken in by a beautiful family.  Neil and Mary adopted my Dad and helped him have an all-American childhood, rather than the horrors of an overcrowded orphanage.  They also taught him of our Lord's eternal love and grace.  My Dad clung to his prayers, and truly believed that prayer changes things.  He would tell me during phone conversations that he prays for us every single night-especially when I went through cancer.  He witnessed the glory of God and the answers to our fervent prayers and celebrated them.  

Mary, his foster mother, had such an amazing faith and spirit, that she received a letter from the US Army in reference to the scapulars that she sent to Vietnam.  A soldier was shot in the chest in battle, and her scapular caught the bullet and saved the soldiers life.  I think that my Dad truly learned and understood that Jesus saves us from sin.   

As I called the people in my Dad's phone book to tell them of his passing, the last number I called was to a distant relative that I didn't even know.  As I spoke to her, she told me that my Dad would go to her house as a child and stand at the organ singing hymns while her husband played along.  She said he had a beautiful voice and that is her favorite memory.  I was overjoyed to hear of such a precious and innocent thought-my Dad as a child, standing beside an organ praising the Lord in song.  It made me think that even though my Dad never let on to this talent while he was with us, I now know that my Dad is in Heaven, singing alongside the angels. 

I'm sad that my Dad is not with us anymore, but there is a part of me that is able to be joyful in this moment.  Jesus has been with us each step of the way, and given Dad, Dave and myself comfort in the hardest times. 

 There is joy in the fact that my Dad entered his eternal life in the peace and safety of the hospital, rather than by himself at home.  There is joy that my Dad has finally been able to reunite with my Mom, the person that gave him the most joy.  There is joy in the fact that even though my Dad is not with us in body, he will be with us each time we celebrate communion with our Lord. 

  I take joy in the fact that my brother and I were at least able to speak to my Dad on the phone and that he was able to hear our voices during his last moments. 
There is joy that God does indeed teach us to accept hardship as the pathway to peace.  Psalm 30, verse 5 says that "weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning."  I pray that each of you can look to our God in this time of sorrow, for He is the one source where true joy can be found.